Nazty Naz Wins Competition to be NZ's Most Hated Woman

Nazty Naz

Just when Naz was starting to win some of New Zealand over with her cutsie smile, crinkly nose and girly laughter, out she comes with all guns blazing!  I hope you’ve got your passport ready Naz, because you’ve just won the competition, and are now New Zealand’s most hated woman.  On the plus side I guess Judith Collins is now heaving a great sigh of relief and preparing to hand over the crown.

In what was a pretty cringe worthy show, our Monday and Tuesday night guilty pleasure, this episode absolutely took the cake!  Was it Mike Puru squirming uncomfortably in his chair as he tried to get the girls to ‘open up’, Jordan’s maugerly boring chat, or the clearly irate girls that felt that they’d been held in ‘captivity’ in a Mansion!  No, it was the shocking entrance of Naz theNazty Queen as she snaked down out of her tree in the garden of Eden and showed her true colours- and what awful colours they were.

Naz entered unapologetically, and launched into an expletive filled diatribe that virtually nobody had immunity from, except precious Jordan of course.  The audience gets both barrels when she responds to a clearly quite perceptive audience member that yells out a very succinct description of Naz.  “come up here and say that, I f****n dare you” or something pretty rank and disrespectful for live TV  that she yells back.  Again Naz is clearly just being ‘confident’ and forgetting to be ‘respectful’ to others.  Or maybe it’s us, we’re just not confident and strong like her...

Next in the line of fire is Kate.  After asking Naz why she had made it onto Naz’s ‘hit list’ when she hadn’t even talked to her, Naz replies ‘I talked to you in the house, don’t talk shit’ I don’t want to exactly quote Naz because 1) I know how much it annoys her when people get it wrong, and 2) I’m already wasting heaps of time just writing about the psycho already. 

Well, Kate shone tonight.  Good on you Kate.  You weren’t scared to let Naz know she wasn’t worth wasting your time on.  Kate and Gabs were confident, respectful and truthful.  One can only hope that Kate gets some ‘alone time’ with Naz after the show- now that’s some reality TV I’d like to see.  I suspect that Naz won't be partying with 'the girls' after the show- she'll need a special escort to get her safely passed a simmering lynch mob of designer dresses and perfume.

Because I started watching The Bachelor a few episodes in, I never had the displeasure of viewing that half witted fellow bitch of Nazty Naz – Claw-ditz or something like that.  One could not meet a shallower, more idiotic, fame hungry, desperate woman. I’m guessing you’ll be able to pick up her designer clothes at bargain prices tomorrow. Still at least she was there so that Naz had someone to sit beside and rudely interrupt, giggle and point with. 

Mauger disappointment

To be sure Jordan was a mauger disappointment.  What do we really know about him.  Not much, and to be fair it seems like that is all there is to know.  If you close your eyes and listen to him speaking he sounds ‘exactly’ like John Key.  If you ask him a straight forward question he sounds ‘exactly’ like John Key.  He just beats around the bush using benign, meaningless lingo.

Watching Naz greet Jordan as though he was still her ‘babe’ was just plain horrible.  And rather than act like a gentleman and kindly deflect her clingy, possessive behaviour, Jordan acted in a maugerly spineless way.  He let Naz get all close and personal without thinking about Fleur’s feelings at all.  Good old Kate was onto it though, she made some noise about it and rightly so.  High five Kate - you beauty!  If only Jordan had rescued the situation by saying something like ‘I knew all along it was Fleur’ but no, the clumsy idiot thought we’d all feel sorry for his ‘difficult choice’ between Naz and Fleur!!!!   Nice one mate, hard to understand why you were single eh?!

Question time just got worse and worse.  A clearly irate group of 'girls' ask some confronting questions and make some underhanded jabs about the whole Bachelor show.  Mike looks like he knows things are out of control and starts to glow with a thin sheen of nervous sweat.  At this point the only thing that could save the show is if Jeff from Survivor came and took over.  Naz still thinks her and Jordan are ‘a thing’ and tries to answer questions that the girls have directed to Jordan.  Taking a swipe at Ceri when she asks Jordan why he concealed his acting career from the girls, Naz tries to deflect this question by saying that Ceri only did The Bachelor so that she could get onto Dancing with the Stars.  Well Naz might as well have just punched a puppy on TV! Everybody hates her, her fate is signed, sealed and delivered.  Well, maybe Jordan still likes her- because he’s very, very stupid.

Maugerly concerned about her new boyfriend

Fleur’s entrance to the show is a relief.  All the ‘girls’ like her, as do the majority of New Zealanders.  Even Jordan likes her quite a bit.  She is demur, genuine and lovely which is nice.  However, it’s all a bit sad because her future relationship with Jordan looks like it’s going to be maugerly disappointing. Everyone wants Fleur to be happy, it just seems highly unlikely that Jordan is going to be the key to that happiness.  

The only future for Naz is as the future Bachelorette, otherwise she might as well call Natalia Kills and Willie Moon for advice on how to cope when New Zealand hates you.

UPDATE**** Having learnt nothing from her disgraceful behaviour screened on TV last night, Naz rolls out even more of her Nazty behaviour on The Edge radio station this morning. You can see her happily giggle away while she reveals that she slept with Jordan multiple times...click here to watch her nazty, manipulative act.

Following this Jordan and Fleur arrive for a 'chat' with Jay Jay, Dom and Randall and boy is it disappointing.  Again Jordan explains just how tough it was to choose.  Really!!! Has he learned nothing?  Has nobody leaned in and said 'look mate, even if that's true, The Bachelors over now and you're best not to say that'!  Jay Jay even asks Fleur how she feels when he says that and Fleur agrees it's hard- but still Jordan hasn't cottoned on.  I'm beginning to think he should have chosen Naz. Watching Naz play with Jordan like a cat torturing a mouse would be a great follow up show for The Bachelor. And seeing Fleur live happily ever after with someone who thinks she is their true one and only would be the kind of happy ever after most of us would like to see for her.   

Snickers Bar Smoothie

This is not usually a blog site about recipes but I’ll make an exception this time because of the bloody amazing flavours you’re all going to want to have in your mouths.  If you hate peanut butter, or snickers bars then piss off- this is not a blog for you to read.  If you’re from the Paleo religion, I’m not sure whether this will fit into your particular set of torturous conditions, but I’m sure you can tweak it into more of a self righteous show piece smoothie recipe to share with your tribe, and masterful leader Pete Evans (snort).

Anyway, back to the smoothie recipe.  I love peanut butter, I love salt, I love eating and I love smoothies.  I didn’t come up with the rebel’s idea of putting peanut butter in a smoothie but I’d like to thank that wonderful, creative mind whose eager taste buds planted the seed.   It’s been whirling around in my mind for a while now that I must try a peanut butter smoothie, but the kids were never as keen.  Well, finally one day when I had the opportunity to actually think about what I’d like, and fulfill those fantasies, I made up the best frigging smoothie of my life!!!!

The perfect set of circumstances had combined.  I was hungry for something yummy and nourishing (though the latter was not really as important as the former), I had some sachets of smooth peanut butter and the blender was on the bench.  I let my mind-tongue make the recipe, and while I ruminated on how disgusting it was that we in the first world have enough food to be able to blend it all up and post photos on instagram to show off, I accidentally created heaven in a tall glass.

I’m not selfish and I can’t bear to keep this recipe to myself so here it is.  Keep in mind that this was accidentally healthy-ish and not on purpose, but Hallelujah, because I can be as greedy as I like with this one.  If you want to have your own little wank-fest party and skite about your pure as fuck ingredients, well be my guest a-hole, everybody thinks you’re a dick anyway.

Stuff for Snickers bar Smoothie

Almond/Coconut/Cow Milk - I use Almond or Coconut because Dairy gives me a tummy ache
Nuts - I use Almonds or Walnuts but you can use whatever fuckin nuts you want
Banana - All my shitty brown bananas are chucked in the freezer and are great for smoothies
Smooth Peanut Butter
Maple Syrup - Because it tastes so good, there’s no other reason - don’t be a dick
Salt - OK, I used Himalayan pink salt but just because I have a jar of it next to the stove

Method

If at this point you are scratching your head and wondering what amounts to use, well use your fuckin’ brain, it’s not rocket science.  Enough milk to make your mixture up to the amount of serves you want, not obviously a large greedy amount of nuts, one banana for one person, a decent amount of peanut butter, like two tablespoons, and just enough maple syrup to make it sweet but not sickly sweet.  It’s a smoothie mixture so it should be smooth and not like a glass of concrete.  This recipe really is for winners, so losers- go take a hike.  It doesn’t matter what kind of blender you’ve got, as long as it fulfills the function of blending then that’s fine.

So by now you should have a delicious, snickers bar tasting smoothie in your hand, drink up and enjoy, take a photo and share it on instagram if you like.  If you want to be an unlikable health freak that still enjoys the taste of snickers bars but feel that this recipe is too simple and not skite-worthy enough, please search google for one that suits your particular level of food snobbery.  There are heaps of smoothie recipes out there that surely are only made and photographed, because I wouldn't drink that shit. So fill your boots freaks, shove your $100 whey protein and shit in there – I’ll be right here enjoying my low key Snickers Bar Smoothie.

I don't need to dress this up.

Fat Chance

My, what a bonnie child I am!  At the age of 41 I am still surely making my Mother proud by following the above average line for my weight gain.  I just know when I go to visit her next that she will proudly take me out to visit all her friends, parade me around, and be the envy of all.  Surely they will see what a great Mother she is by observing my impressive gains!

Recently whilst I was rummaging around for undies and preparing to dress my extremely impressive body, I had a breath-taking and slightly comical experience.  As I grabbed the undies and shook them out, they unfurled like a ship’s sail, and I stood there in a shocked ‘Shallow Hal’ moment.  Though incredibly familiar, quite shabby actually, I was caught off guard by their stretched and saggy size.  Were these truly mine?  I knew they were; but I felt a mixture of horror and humour at just how big they looked.  It was like I was seeing them for the first time and I didn’t like what I saw.

While I tucked my tummy snugly into the shabby yet accommodating cotton under clothing, my mind traveled down delightful avenues.  What if being 'bonnie' carried on past the baby stage?  At what age did being chubby switch from being a badge of good health that people delighted in, to something to be ashamed about?  When did Mum’s friends go from saying things like ‘look at her little chubby hands she’s just lovely’ to ‘have you seen her daughter, she’s quite big...’, followed by raised eyebrows and a lingering look of disappointment.

I kept travelling down the path and imagined that my weight was still of great pride to my Mother, and how impressed her friends would be.  Mum would meet me at the airport and throw herself at me in delight.  She’d kiss both of my chubby rosy cheeks and exclaim happily ‘look at you, you’ve gained weight, you’re such a clever wee thing, you always were a good eater’.  I’d beam my cute smile at her with my cheeks so chubby they look like they’ll burst.  Mum will look around her proudly, observing the other Mum’s and Dad’s that wish they could have such a 'bonnie' daughter.

We’d go and meet Mum’s friends and their kids from our playgroup days.  I’d be the delight of the meet-up.  ‘Look at Pam’s daughter, isn’t she chubby, just glowing with good health, gosh Pam is such a good Mother, she must be so proud’.  The Mum’s with the thin kids would feel ashamed of themselves for their unhealthy, emaciated children, and encourage them to eat some more afternoon tea which they are just picking at.  They’d be trying not to appear jealous as they watch me tucking in ravenously out of the corner of their eyes.  Inside they’re boiling with jealousy and thinking what a bitch Mum is for rubbing their faces in her success.

As the meet up gets more intimate and friendly and everyone finds my chubby, cheek splitting smile utterly adorable, the thin kid’s parents try and talk up their kids stunning achievements and amazing personalities.  No-one’s listening because they’re all transfixed on my Mum, who’s attentively wiping food from my double chin while gazing adoringly at me. They are all waiting for the moment when they can squeeze my thigh rolls and watch me giggle with delight.  Mum will tell them I always was a good eater, never fussy and I just eat anything she puts in front of me.  The thin kids Mums will all look at each other and roll their eyes spitefully because deep down they know- they’ve failed to raise a healthy, fat, bonnie child...

I'm dressed now and ready to hit the day, self esteem high...

So Goodbye 2015 my Annus Horribilis...

So Goodbye 2015 my Annus Horribilis...

And from the worst year of my life and the pits of despair, I have clawed my way through the black sorrow to gasp a refreshing lungful of fresh New Year air.

And although my soul has been deeply scarred from my experiences, now is the time for rejuvenation, because this journey through hell did not come without lessons and revelations.

I have truly met myself for the first time, the personal me, the me that I think I am inside.  I like me, I’ve nestled in, I’m home.  The other me, that other’s see, seems like a stranger, an evil twin, with good and bad qualities, but still me, I’ll toy with that...

Last year I learnt that I’m a writer, I was always meant to be a writer,  I’ll always be a writer.

I’ve learned that I need solitude and space for creativity, but also people and experiences to build my stories with.

My Family and friends are the most important things in my life and nothing else compares, I’d give anything for them.

My body will reflect my genetics, lifestyle, and age which is as it should be.

My work will not dominate my life ever.  I will only work to the level required to fulfil my passions and earn the small amount of money that is truly needed to survive.

I will minimise my stuff as much as possible, because it is a pointless waste of space, money and time.

I like my garden, the birds, walking with my dogs, biking and big and small adventures.

My body may be aging but my soul is growing more full and colourful every day.

I will be a lifeboat for my friends and family as they have been for me, keeping me afloat.

I’m scared that I might have run out of time to learn all the things that I still want to learn, like French, Japanese, Spanish, Italian, American History, Graphic design, Dressmaking, British History, Greek Mythology and so many more things.  I’ll just keep reading...

This year my goal is to publish a book.

I will watch a movie every week, because stories and art together are good.

I don’t like sci-fi or special effects.

I only want to be friends with honest and genuine people.  I don’t care where you live, or what size you are, or what car you drive.  I just like interesting minds and kindness.

Shallow and materialistic people are boring.

Spending your life chasing money and following rules is a waste of a life.

I like to be fit and healthy, but I will still drink alcohol, eat junk food and sleep in till midday in the weekends, because that’s what makes me happy.

Crying daily is not normal for me and if it starts happening again I’ll make changes sooner.

Other people in the world are suffering a lot, this doesn’t ease my pain but it helps me keep things in perspective.

I’ll always be angry that men that kick balls and climb mountains are hailed as heroes but the huge sacrifices that Mothers make go unnoticed.

I’m really strong, but I almost broke.

There is comfort in the ordinary things like doing the washing and making dinner.

I will tread lightly on the world and hope the world treads lightly on me.

I believe in the energy and power of our minds and souls and that together we can achieve amazing things.

This year will be my annus mirabilis.

More than Words...

 

I’ve been through the clichéd experience of ‘finding myself’

recently, but before you start thinking I made a choice to go through this experience- no - I was dragged, kicking and screaming.  And, my version of ‘finding myself’ was not a search for the meaning of life, or long restful days meditating, or travelling, or any of those quite nice pathways to finding oneself.  My version of finding myself was instigated by my life just imploding, and me actually trying to find myself out of the scattered remnants.

When one’s life is shattered it quickly becomes clear what is truly important and what drives one to despair.  My loved ones have the capacity to lift me up and carry me through hard times and the power to totally destroy me.  Sometimes strength simply must be found from within; no-one can or should carry you forever. 

I have learned how much I depend on my loved ones and how much they depend on me, but this is not the full lesson.  The full lesson is that while my loved ones have the power to wound me with unkind words, I too have the power to hurt them with mine.  So when I felt hurt by words and festered away on them and let them boil in my mind, I took the time to imagine someone dear to me feeling the same way about some words I may have said. 

When you know your own intent, and inside feelings it’s horrible to think that someone may be affected by your words in a way that you never intended.  Assumptions are made that loved ones know you so intimately that they know more than words, they know the 'inside you' so they could never misunderstand your intent.

So how can I avoid making people I love feel bad?  I don’t want to bruise anybody’s soul. I’m especially bad at talking first and thinking later,  but if I censor myself will I still be the same person?  And who am I really?  Am I who I think I am, or who others think I am?  For instance I've heard quite a lot that I am 'harsh' which makes part of my insides ache, but I have to accept having heard it enough times that that must be how I come across.  So this must be a word about who I am even if I don't feel like that inside.  

What can I do with the bad things said to, or about me?  What do these words look like all together?  It’s easy to fall into the trap of blaming others for hurting you, but by contrast, defending yourself vehemently when the finger of blame is pointed in your direction. 

In an attempt to be my own guidance counselor I decided to write all the words about me down.  Luckily I'm blessed enough to have amazing friends and family who also say nice words about me, better words than I'd use to describe myself.  I gave myself a reasonable amount of space on a big piece of paper and started writing.  At first it was slow going, I wondered whether I could successfully fill the space.  I wrote words I thought about myself, words other people had said to me, words that are labels applied to me, bad words about me, and good words about me.  By the time I was finished I realised I had filled the space but could have carried on. 

There are a lot of words about me, and I didn’t feel bad about them at all.  They are part of what makes me a whole and truly authentic being. Having just nice words about me would be nice, but it would be only part of the picture. Words can hurt, and words can heal, but they are just words. They are words about me that tell a story, and I’m happy with how my story is going.   

Business Workshop...

Today I attended a business workshop organised by the Bank.  It’s

not my thing really to attend workshops and I can say that after 18 years of business it’s probably the second one I’ve ever attended.  I sort of got bullied into going by my very persuasive bank manager.  She’s a congenial woman and won me over with her non judgmental ways when she first met me and my husband.  On paper our portfolio probably looked good(not so much anymore) and I imagine she understandably expected to be meeting a more suitably attired couple  than me and my husband who were dressed in shorts, t-shirts and jandals.  Her shock was over in the blink of an eye and since then she has only ever treated us with respect which we return in kind.  Well actually I guess my emails could be seen as slightly offensive but she tells me that she laughs out loud at them and seems to take them in the spirit they were intended.  Jo’s been kind and helpful over the years, bless her, and consistently emailed me about attending their ‘biz’ workshops (see the way the shorten business to biz to make it look cool and fun?),which I feign interest in and then never sign up to.  This time she caught me off guard and called me.  She applied ever so slightly more pressure than usual and pointed out it was about cash flow and profitability.  I tried to fend her off by telling her that I was actually pretty fucking good at managing cash flow but that I just actually needed cash in order to do that.  She stuck to her guns and then delivered the final blow- there’d be wine and food for free.  Sign me up I said, after all I was in no position to parry with Jo, she held all the cards.  I made sure she understood I wasn’t going to turn up dressed like a generic business idiot and act all professional and inhuman- I’m not selling my soul for profit, I’m a human being!   

I’m not really sure what to expect when I turn up to the golf club for the workshop.  A lot of what I do expect is there.  The staff from the bank- not just the normal staff, the upper echelon- their uniforms are clearly higher quality signifying their higher importance.  Name badges and a list of attendees are neatly lined up on a table (complete with white tablecloth) by the entrance and I’m greeted by overly enthusiastic smiles of the staff.  The standard set up of tables and chairs with glasses and a jug of water on each, and the nervous tension of a bunch of strangers accumulating in groups in the room.  There’s coffee available to the side and eventually some sweet accompaniments.  I’m fortunate to sit down next to a pleasant and friendly girl who’s fresh into business but not a ‘climb to the top at any cost’ unbearable type.  The speaker starts making herself known by confidently approaching and making polite but purposed chit-chat.  Is it our first time she wants to know, and if so why.  I honestly tell her- it’s not really my thing.  She fixes a confident and challenging gaze on me, slightly tilts her head to the side and asks “why is it not your thing”?  Bitch!  I know her game.  She thinks I’m going to squirm and laugh, or look away and say something stupid like “oh I don’t know”.  Well she’s messing with the wrong lady.  I look straight back at her and  take my time to respond, I want the pause to linger in my intent gaze.  I confidently deliver my response “Workshops are just not my vibe”, which is the softer version of “eat shit bitch”.  She nods, says “OK” and turns away- she knows immediately that it is now futile to try and win me over.

The presentation begins with an introduction by another of the banking hierarchy, an old guy resplendent in his high quality, well tailored shirt and trousers in the bank colours.  The Bitch’s name is Shaz- short for Sharon.  We’re told that she used to be a personal trainer and that she would be making us exercise today (groan- I hate that shit at conferences). Over to Shaz.  Well Shaz comes to the crowd like a boxer to the ring.  She’s talking the talk and garnering the attention of an enthusiastic crowd. She’s from the UK and not from a good part she tells us, she’s proud, like hers is an amazing rags to riches story.  She does have the look of a polished ordinary stone, the aggressive very straight front teeth with short fangs either side, and the prominent sinewy muscles shown off so well in her quite tight uniform.  Shaz clearly likes to wear her uniform tight, the buttons of her shirt are straining and her skirt hugs her personal trainer turned banker body which she concedes is now under exercised.  On closer inspection one can see the tattoo, on her lower right calf muscle, showing through her stockings.  She wears a statement ring on her left ring finger.  It’s a thick band probably nearly a centimetre wide studded all over with what looks like diamonds.  I’m picking they are diamonds because this bitch means business; she wants people to see she’s kicking ass.  Still, she tries to pull off the ‘I’m cool and casual at the same time’ look by teaming her uniform with glossy purple flats and by wearing her blond hair in a casual bun.  She tells the crowd she’s managed pubs and nightclubs in the rough part of the UK so don’t mess with her.  I don’t doubt she’s tough and could be scary, but I’d rather she punched me in the face than use her powers for the soul less work she’s doing now.

Shaz starts talking about business profit and cash flow which is all pretty straight forward and boring.  I have to admit she’s a good, clear speaker that can keep an audience focused. Occasionally she chucks bags of jellybeans into the crowd for clever questions and answers- she’s shit at throwing.  I soften towards her when she talks about how creative people like her look at a spreadsheet for a bit and then go “nah, I’m bored I’ll check out Facebook and see what’s happening” , I can relate to that.  Shaz keeps banging on about delivering a ten star experience.  She brings it up every twenty minutes or so “are we all having a ten star experience?” She raises her arms as she says it and the vibe gets a bit like an Amway conference, I’m almost expecting some inspirational music to start-‘Simply the best’.  At the end of her talk she gets us some forms to fill out, feedback on the workshop we’ve just attended.  She reminds us that we’ve just experienced a ten star experience, I give her an eight.

Finally it’s time for the promised free drinks and food, and it’s well worth the wait.  With my glass of Sav I wash down a beef with blue cheese sauce slider, a crumbed prawn, and deep fried Camembert.  There was more food, almost as much as you could want and perhaps the best finger food I’ve ever had at an event such as this. I have a very enjoyable chat with Jo and the new business girl I met at my table.  I take the bank pen and name tag home with me.  Fuck Shaz, she tried to out bitch me but I met her bitch and raised her one.  I’m up for another Bank workshop though; they’ve got the money to cater the best food around, even if I do have to listen to Shaz the bank bitch. 

Cover Letter

I've been running a very enjoyable experiment lately and I think the results of it may lead to a great book in the future.  After being self employed for 18 years I've decide to cast my net out and see what new things I could do employment wise.  I don't want to pretend to be someone I'm not to get a job so I've decided to portray myself exactly as I am in hopes that someone will feel my vibe and snap me up.  It hasn't happened yet but the process has been very enjoyable.  Here's a sneak peek at one of my cover letters, let me know if you'd like to see all of them in a book in the future.  There's fourteen so far...( the yellow highlighted parts are where I have changed names in order to protect identity)

Mysterious date

Big Corporation

Generic Spectacle shop- Customer Service Assistant

To whom it may concern,

I am writing to apply to be considered for your advertised role as Customer Service Assistant.  I came across your advertisement on Internet Job Site and hope that you will take a small amount of your time to look at my CV and consider my suitability for the position.

I am a reliable and sure sighted worker who does not discriminate against those that are struggling with deficient eyes.  With smiles and understanding I will select with a flourish just the right set of specs for my poor sighted fellow human beings.  Customers that walk in like they are playing a game of pin the tail on the donkey will leave like they are strutting their stuff on Saturday Night Fever. 

 I’ve got skills, they’re multiplying, but I’m not losing control.  With 20/20 vision my experience includes accounts management, payroll, contract negotiations, memo writing, website development, sales, customer service, inventory control, dispute resolution, meeting organisation, social gathering organisation and many other tasks.

I think the nature of this role you are advertising really suits my skill set especially my communication skills and my aging and degenerating eyes.  I have gained strength, confidence and resilience in my years as a business woman which has ensured that along with parenting I am now a battle hardened human being. I adapt easily to new environments and get along with people well.  I like to think I am pretty fast at picking up new skills too.  I would be wide eyed with delight if you would consider me for this position as I believe I have the foresight to deliver high quality advice for your clients.   I am an easy going and fun girl who doesn’t mind being bossed about.  On the other hand I am also good at working independently since I have been my own boss for most of my working life. 

I have enclosed my CV, which is a real representation of me. It shows some of my skills (I gather you don’t want to know about my amazing cooking and parenting) but I believe I have the skills to take on most challenges, I’m resourceful.  

Thanks for reading this far, I hope to hear from you and maybe do some talking,

Yours faithfully

Plum Lovely

Brown eyed Girl